


Locked in Dreams

by CosmeerSpots



Series: Wondrous Wanders [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Dehumanization, Gen, Gore, Pain, Wondrous Wanders AU, bc it was written by me so ofc theres gore i swear i AM capable of writing nice stuff, im in pain hollows in pain the dreamers are in pain the moth bitch is in pain, so much pain, wishing for death // Idk how to tag it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmeerSpots/pseuds/CosmeerSpots
Summary: They are all in this together, aren’t they?Yes. Well, until they aren’t.
Relationships: Herrah the Beast & The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel, Monomon the Teacher & The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Lurien the Watcher
Series: Wondrous Wanders [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681615
Comments: 14
Kudos: 129





	Locked in Dreams

It sits cross legged on top of the world, on the edge of a floating platform suspended by nothing but maybe a will. The sun is slowly setting. It is to thank for that. The scenery would be beautiful and serene, if it didn't know better. Didn't know that the sun had eyes, feathered wings and immeasurable ancient rage trapped in it.

The sealing went smoothly. It trapped the mad god in its mind and it was trapped by chains in an egg of Void by their Father and His spells. Now, only and just to hold on for eternity. To keep the Radiance sleeping, or maybe, once kill Her, too? Get rid of Her and Her plague, forever. That sounds good. There’s a small spark of curiosity, if it'd be set free if the god really did die. The small spark gets extinguished immediately. It is not to wonder, just like it is not to think, speak nor feel.

It feels Her _stirring_ in the deepest corners of its mind. It feels as if a parasite made its home in its head. As if Her presence was eating away at its brain, or whatever a void construct might have, to make room for Herself. It shudders. She does not wake.

The sun is only just a soft glow from over the horizon, hiding behind the clouds, when the first Dreamer appears.

Lurien doesn't say anything. Doesn't acknowledge it. It isn’t surprised. After all, it is just an object. A tool for this specific thing, nothing more than a pen, paper or a vase. Lurien stands behind it, arms crossed behind his back, watching over the process of ruler of dreams falling asleep. It doesn't turn towards him to inspect him. In dream, it was told, nothing can truly kill it. Therefore, there’s no need of worry of an attack. It was taught to defend itself only against fatal blows, when it came to common bugs.

His shoulders are sagged. It thinks it knows why. No, no. Not thinks. It just knows, because it watched. As it was supposed to. Keeping watch means keeping guard and it was made to guard the world of its Father. Lurien used to have a little bug at his side, it recalls. They only stayed in the Spire, though. Never left for the Palace with their master. It observed often as the little thing cleaned the tables, lit the candles. They used to brink food and drinks to their Father during meetings. It didn't miss how comfortable they were around Lurien, they joked and sassed each other. It was nice to listen to, it supposed. Friendly banter was a nice thing that, in a way, made it feel at home. Cozy, it would say if it could name and know feelings. The Five Great Knights were always in middle of some playful argument during free time and training. It learned to recognize the behaviour and appreciate it for the certain serenity it offered. Laughter meant that everything was alright.

The warm glow is almost gone when Monomon joins them. Beautiful as always, soft and oh so sublime. Her tentacles and cloak move with the gentle breeze of this place set in endless sky. She stares at it for a bit, it feels all four of her eyes on its back, but it holds itself from any movement. It is not to react. Even though it is the reason why she was separated from her Archives and, most importantly, from her little pill bug assistant. It didn't fail to notice how she fussed with the bug’s bandanna. Laughed at his jokes, let him hold onto her in the first meetings with the King that seemed terrifying to the grub. The adoration in her voice when speaking about him, to him, was something impossible to ignore.

She joins Lurien at his side. They look one to the other. Bow their heads in unison and gaze over the horizon together again. 

It guesses that the the guilt crashing down on its shoulders alongside the weight of the world is not something to be surprised of. It is not surprised. It is its fault that despite everything, it was not deemed strong enough to hold against the god alone. If it was strong- truly, _truly strong_ \- the bugs behind it could have just kept on living their lifes. Without the threat of death in dreams, too.

Everything is dim and without a spark of single light, just as a starless night when the last Dreamer makes her appearance. It is quite on point, for a queen of the second darkest place it has ever seen to arrive now. She stands there, away from all of them for a while.

The guilt balancing on the top of its back suddenly falls down on it not unlike a shower of cold water. _Herrah_ , Hornet’s mother… Its little sister really is alone, isn't she…? And it’s all its fault. It is its fault the small child cried. What if she’s crying again? It's not there to comfort her anymore, not even her mom is there. Nobody is there to hide her away from pain under fabric of a cloak. It was ordered by both Herrah and Father to protect her- There’s no one. It shouldn’t feel, it knows, it knows. It can’t help the whirlwind of panic and blame spinning in its supposedly empty mind, though, as it thinks of little sister standing lonely in vast kingdom. _It left another sibling behind_.

Herrah sits next to it and it startles, whips its head around to face her. It hopes the Dreamers just think it did so only as a guardian of its own shell. Not as an emotional reaction.

Lurien and Monomon seem surprised by Herrah’s decision. They expected her to join their side, it bets. It thought so as well. She doesn't flinch, doesn't jerk away as it does. Of course she doesn't. She’s a skilled warrior that knows well when danger rears its ugly face, she is one of the best. It had sparred with her few times, back in the waking world. The King requested it so. It should know how to defend against a needle wielder, He said. Herrah was just happy to get to teach and show it how to defend against the lighter, swifter cousin of a nail, to take on an opponent considered the most proficient warrior of Hallownest. It had to admit, fighting against and with the Queen of Deepnest was a pleasure and honor. Fun, too, it would say if it was allowed to feel things.

Zip from one side of the arena to the other, lead her and then let yourself follow. Watch and hear the needle swish through the air and block it with your own long nail. The clank of the weapons colliding was such satisfying sound as it blocked one of her dives. Hornet watched from the sidelines, taken by the gracefulness and the power her family danced with, blades shaping their steps and bows. Both mother and daughter laughed, as fueled by adrenaline and feeling of freedom that the rush of combat offers as they were. Few times, it wished it could laugh with them. When it forgot just for a second that it was a knight of the Pale Wyrm’s court and not just another resident of Deepnest that happened to pick up the art of nails and offensive spells.

It relaxes, calmed by the memory of hospitality that followed after every little training session. It never did much that it wasn’t said to do. It was a statue capable of self-defense. Yet, Herrah took it upon herself to treat it almost equally to how she treats Hornet. Treated. Right. They are all locked in here forever.

It looks over the endless skies stretching before it, again. Monomon and Lurien started chatting while it was in process of remembering and it’s so good to have some noise in this cursed dream. Herrah glances its way. Sighs and looks back into the night.

The Hollow Knight wonders if the Queen holds only hate for it, now. It hopes not. It loves her, just like it loves the kingdom it is protecting.

* * *

Time doesn't exist in this dimension, it has learned. Never before had it dreamed, but Herrah, thankfully, explained the concept to it. Well, tried to, anyway. Her explanation proved to be too brief for Monomon’s liking, so the teacher took it upon herself to follow her profession and delve deep into the theories and facts of dreams and sleep. It felt like it knew everything there is to know about the subject when she finished. There was nothing better than to talk in here, so neither Lurien or Herrah stopped her. Time doesn't exist to our minds when they rest, said the teacher, but it felt like it sat through two whole days of endless lecture without a break. Not that it really minded, listening was something it was made for.

Listening was better than the crushing silence of the waking world. Sometimes, it would wake. Still hung from the chains as it is supposed to. The dark was not the one of a natural night. It was filled with the nothingness of Void it had risen out of years upon years ago. It decided that this darkness was not as good as the one in their shared dream, with Herrah by its side and Monomon with Lurien behind its back. It wasn’t as nice like the dark of Deepnest, even though that black was much more similar to this. It always had a little bundle of joy coated in red next to it to chase away any loneliness, doubts or fear. 

Here, it is alone with memories it cannot chase away no matter how it tries.

Bodies hit the floor all around it, even though it knows that it is not possible for it to be back in the Abyss. Yet, it can smell the death all around. It could swear it felt a drop of blood turned void drop onto its face. It climbs high, after pale glow it knows there cannot be. It steps over the bodies of its siblings. Sometimes, it steps _into_ them. By accident or simply because there’s nowhere else it can put its foot. It can feel its foot slide between guts, still jerking with nerves that have yet to die fully, making them squelch. Involuntary, its whole body shakes with pure dread as it hurriedly makes its way away from the teared open little thing. It won't end up like that one sibling, it swears to itself. It has to go higher and higher, it cannot fall and break. It shakes off any blood or gore that got trapped in its chitin or between its joints and continues the ascend.

It finally, _finally_ , reaches the top. The light disappears. No one’s there and when it looks back, it jumps as it spots a sibling reaching for it, begging to help them rise. It is too frozen by _emotions_ to do anything. The sibling starts slipping back into the nothingness of their birthplace and it scrambles to help them. _Safe them, it doesn't want them to die-_

It falls asleep again, too exhausted by the turmoil the illusions offer. When it opens its eyes again, it's lying against Herrah’s shoulder. One of her hands rubs soothing circles into its back. It’s shaking. Monomon and Lurien ignore them. It is glad for that. Herrah knows it better than the other two. She seems to know it better than it does itself.

It wants to keep lying on her shoulder. It is not to want, however, so it rises and sits again. The sun rose a little bit, so it focuses to stifle its glow. It is, of course, victorious. The god is asleep, still. Herrah’s hand doesn't leave its back.

They sit in silence. Even the teacher and the watcher preserve it for a long long while.

* * *

Time doesn't exist in dreams, it now knows well and even why. But it also knows it has been a long while before the parasite in its hollow head starts writhing around. It comes from seemingly nowhere. It tries to drown Her in its darkness, but it can’t. It just _can’t_.

Its physical body trashes, rattles the chains. Its throat burns with the sickly sweet infection and never had it wanted to scream, but now it’s the only thing its heart begs for. Its vision goes white, before they awaken in the dream realm. Its head whips around, searching for the Dreamers. _For Herrah, because it’s so scared and hurt and she’s the last little comfort in this hell_. _Just to see her-_

They are all gone, though. The only being with it is the god it was supposed to keep suppressed. Angry orange eyes stare at it. She summons Her ethereal blades and wastes no time in delaying a rain of nails upon its head. It scrambles up on its legs and dashes out of the harm’s way. Its hand reaches back to draw its own pure nail. There’s nothing. Its hand comes back empty.

The god’s cruel laugh booms through the heavens, it rattles the entire plane of dreams’ existence. It can feel it rising from its own chest.

_“WHY YOU LITTLE FOOLISH THING, DO YOU REALLY THINK I’D LET YOU DRAW A NAIL AGAINST ME IN MY OWN REALM?”_

It doesn't answer. Of course, of course. It doesn't have any way to. It doubts it would answer Her even if it could speak. Instead, it focuses the soul resting in its core and wields it into two pale daggers. It might not have its long nail, but it has learned how to fight with the smaller variants too. And it _will_ beat this god back into slumber, even if it should be the end of both of them.

Their fight is long and tiring. The god refuses to be put back to sleep so strongly, it starts to worry this might be impossible. Her nails slice its mask and chitin when it isn't quite fast enough. Its cape ends up in tatters and it bleeds more than it expected at the start of the match. It scores enough hits, though, to tire the Radiance out and, promptly, She dissolves into essence. She’s not dead, it knows. But at least it gets time to recover. Hopefully. It collapses.

And awakens again, in the same place. The sky is dark, though. Everything is calm and muted. And its head is resting in a warm lap. It looks up and two of its eyes meet Herrah’s six. It looks to the right. Monomon is looking over it, concerned, opening its cape and inspecting the injuries that, unfortunately, were more real than time in this place. It winces as she touches one and the offending tentacle jerks away. It can’t see where the watcher is.

Herrah talks to Monomon for a bit. The two grew quite close. Lurien kept to himself, most of the time, if he wasn’t leading a conversation or something of a presentation about the City of Tears and what he has seen its residents do. The Hollow Knight was ignored by everyone except Herrah. Even now, she hummed to it and stroke its mask, battle hardened hands skipping over new little ravines decorating its horns. They will probably not go away, being made by a god and all. Its shell never will be pristine and clear like before. It doesn't care. Not that it ever really was without a scar before the fight. These are just deeper. More visible.

It lets itself relax and stays lying down. It doesn't have the energy right now to get up and fight against Herrah’s care. It needs to rest. And so it will.

* * *

The fights become more and more frequent. The number of scars on its carapace keeps growing, but it does not ever give up. Its soul reserves are starting to run low, though. And without soul, it has no blades.

Monomon now sits next to it, too. It doesn't know why she left Lurien’s side, but it wasn’t made to question things so it just accepts her decision. She’s much gentler than Herrah is. Her caresses are slow and soft and when it dares to lean against her, or she leans against it, she’s cold and jelly like, so unlike Herrah’s unmovable chitin. When the Queen of Deepnest is not present when it wakes up from the battles, the teacher hugs it close. She tells it stories she took with her from the outside world, shares her dearest memories, tells it her favorite jokes. Her giggles are rather nice, it has to admit. The mischievious ones were probably the best. They suited her well. It was lulled to a- not really sleep, sleep meant another fight or staring into nothingness of the Black Egg- _state of calm_ by them quite the few times, too. But why…?

One time, after it awakens from another battle, scarred and bleeding darkness, she explains why. Herrah’s gone, it doesn't know where the Dreamers go when they aren’t here, but Lurien has been standing ways off. Listening in to Monomon, because he's been surely wondering why, too.

“Living things are not meant to be empty of mind, will or an emotion, Knight.” her voice is a whisper and yet it can be heard so clearly. “The King hoped- _We_ hoped, I had hopes too, that a voided being would be a grand exception. Afterall, the Void residing in the depths under our lovely kingdom is a special thing. I suppose our theory was wrong.” She looks so sad. It wants to shake its head, tell her that no, it’s alright, but wouldn't that just prove her point?

“Maybe we should have noticed. An automaton without a mind or a will wouldn't be able to learn the art of a nail like you did. You calculate opponent’s movement and you decide how to counter it. Which block would be the most effective? At which angle? How fast do you have to lift your nail to keep the enemy’s blade away from your shell? Would it be, perhaps, better to duck to a side or under and slice at them while they are vulnerable?” It supposes that yes, it does do that.

“When you fall on your knees, overwhelmed by the swarms of attacks, you will yourself back up. I have seen you train, seen you lose. You fought, however, till the end. Until your Father decided that you are becoming too damaged- too wounded to keep going. One could say that you were just and only following orders. Automatons stop and freeze when one single thing goes wrong, though. They do not adapt like you do. Automatons don’t need to train as well, they are supposed to be perfect right from the start. They don’t do same mistakes but a little bif differently that a teacher has to point out every single time.” ...They don't?

“And you certainly possess emotions.” No. No, it doesn't. “You are great at hiding them, though.” Oh. Maybe it hid them from itself, too... “The King didn't want to accept or hear of a possibility that you might be impure. So He purposely ignored hitches of your breath or the way your shoulders always rose when the Gendered Child visited the Palace. You took care to hide glimpses of red she neglected to hide by herself under your cape. I've seen it. Quirrel did too. He was always so excited to tell me about new cuteness occuring in the Palace during your shared classes.” Was it really so obvious?

It had to start shaking, because she pulled it closer. “It’s okay. I don't think this was ever meant to work. Perhaps we were always destined to fail, no matter what we did.”

It hears Lurien huff and walk away.

* * *

The first time Lurien sits next to it, speaks to it, cradles its head, is when it loses its arm.

It failed. The Radiance has woken up and it can’t beat Her back to sleep again. Her light and rage fills its mind. It thrashes, it cries burning orange, it screams in its deafening silence, because voice wasn’t gifted to it. Its shoulder hurts and it can’t move its right arm. It shakes even as soft robes drape over its face. The cloth blocks out the faint glow of the sun behind clouds. Its limbs get restrained by someone strong. Probably Herrah. Cold tentacles wrap around it to help the Queen lower it down into someone’s lap.

The Dreamers hold it down. It can hear Herrah cursing, Monomon trying to find a solution, rambling her knowledge in hopes of uncovering a secret that would help them all now. It hears Lurien panicking, before Herrah tells him, and it quotes word to word, to ’shut your little pathetic fucking mouth up’.

Fingers press against its brows and caress. They massage the bone and thanks to the pressure it can feel it. The tips of the clawless fingers softly press against its eyelids. Normally, it would lash out. It was taught that the eyes are one of weakest points on a bug. It doesn't have the energy, though. Nor the will. The sensation is nice enough.

It turns out, that the Goddess hadn't slept since She woke up the first time. It had been just so focused on her influence in the dream realm that it didn't notice Her chipping away at its physical body. Slowly breaking its chitin apart, planting seed of Her infection under its lungs and between its bowels. Its arm… It _rotted_ off. It only noticed and felt it when the whole thing held on only by piece of a broken carapace.

At least, so it found out after the robes lifted off its face. Lurien informs it of everything in trembling voice while Herrah and Monomon attempt to figure out if there’s anything they could do for its pulsing injuries. Everything hurts so much. And, as Lurien tells it that its eyes are now as hauntingly orange as the ones’ of infected bugs, it realizes that everything really is screwed and lost.

Maybe it can hold on for longer if it keeps enduring Her rage. Hopefully, Father will notice that something went wrong and He will fix it. It will be probably thrown back into the depths of its birthplace, but there’s nothing else it deserves for being a mistake. It shakes even more as it tries to bury its fear of the inevitable death.

Lurien covers its eyes with his hands and tells it to rest. It follows his order, still lying in his lap.

* * *

It no longer sleeps within the dream shared with the great three bugs. It _daydreams_ , now. She is ever-present. The Goddess screams, cries. She lies, tortures it with memories She found buried in its consciousness. The worst is when She pulls on the strings of its emotions that were apparently always there and only went ignored by what they belonged to. She found those sooner than the memories.

It only sits on the edge of the platform, now, legs dangling over the endless sky encompassing them all, slouching and looking like a discarded broken doll. The most movement it does is twitching, jerking as She makes it suffer again. Its mind became a torture chamber without any exit. There’s always someone sitting at its side, there’s always a hand resting between its shoulder blades. It can no longer hear the Dreamers well. It catches only small snippets of concerned conversations, loud arguments, hushed words of attempted support and comfort. Even Monomon doesn't know what to do, it knows from what it caught of her breakdown.

The only one with somewhat cold head is Herrah. Of course it’s Herrah. She whispers to it promises of better future, even though both of them know there’s no escape. The plan failed. She has to worry so much for Hornet… It worries during the breaks between pains, too. For Hornet, for the Dreamers, for the whole kingdom, for Father.

Sometimes, the god inside its mind tries to lure it to cooperation by ensuring it everyone will be alright, if it lets Her out. It keeps refusing. Sometimes, when the Radiance calms enough to forget her rage for a minute or two, She talks to it in soft voice that doesn’t seem to suit someone with so much hatred squirming inside them. She talks of Her sadness over the loss of Her followers, little butterflies of night, Moths. She talks about pain, about dreams, about death, nightmares, better times, songs of the youngest and the oldest of Her tribe. She calls it “them”. She calls it “child”. It’s neither of those things. It doesn't know if it prefers Her lying to it about things that should not be lied about or Her tearing into it.

It’s one of those moments. When the Radiance stays quiet. Mourning something it doesn't know of. The glow of the sun over the horizon is muted the smallest bit. It feels like dusk of soft night, promise of rest. Herrah sits next to it, squeezing its hand. It squeezes back, not because of its twitching, exhausted muscles, but because it’s so grateful to have her here.

Of course, that has to be taken from it too.

Something _snaps_. It doubles over and screams in Her voice. The Goddess feels it, too, it realizes. The vision in one of its eyes goes out and Herrah pulls it into her chest. Its claws sink into her cloak as it just keep howling in pain that seems endless. _It just won't leave._ It cries and cries, orange drips from its eyes on the beast’s back. She holds it tightly against herself, attempting to ground it and hisses in her own pain. The infection has to be burning her carapace.

It buries its face in her shoulder. _Please, make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP. HERRAH, MOTHER, FATHER, **PLEASE.**  
_

Its dream spills out from the crack in its head, the cause of all the agony. It makes Herrah disappear and it falls forwards, without her being there to support its weight. That's when all and any fear of death leaves it. _It wants to die. PLEASE, let it die. Set it FREE. PLEASE. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE-_ It curls up and claws at its own face. Then it claws at its eyes and throat. Trying to get the job done by itself. But it _can’t, the god, the parasite, She won't let it pass away_.

It’s alone in a sense that matters most. There’s nobody who’d sit next to it, nobody who’d put their hand on its back. It’s scared, because it’s caged in a different realm, in its mind with a violent god. And it only hopes that someone will come and _kill it_. Feathery wings wrap around its useless body and pulls it into chest full of fluff. _She_ tries to comfort it. The one who caused all this suffering. After all the torture, She _dares_ to-

It hates Her more than it hates the infinite pain.

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of explanation, I guess?: my headcanon is that Radiance was buried at least two dreams deep. Yknow how you sometimes wake up from a dream, but you are actually in another one? The things can layer up quite a bit, tbh, and can even start to feel like pages of book you just try to flip through as fast as possible when you realize you dont really want to read it. Once I got trapped in such loop and I think I "woke up" like 10 times before finally reaching reality. When Hollows mask cracks, their personal dream/Rad’s jail flows out and separates everyone in the shared one
> 
> Also I think we, as a society, need more mom mode Herrah


End file.
